A House of Spades Stands No Chance...

We have been dealt the hand which built our home out of threes and aces.
We bet on cards and wheels in droughts and floods to win hearts and families.
We have gone all in.
The chips collapsed but we've been counting.

She folds a line of clothes while the boys are turning in.
At lights out, father's choking up;
It's all or nothing.
He pushes straight for the car through the door.
Sometimes it's the hardest moves that make the most cents.

I'd took my ship out to sea if I'd make something of me.
The night; a blanket of glass,
the waves; a hallowing wake.
Each swell a sigh for my boys.
The crest; a plea for my wife.
The harbor approaches.

By dawn, he cast his net to fish,
four hours, three attempts, two tow them in.
That's when one line gave out and tore from the fishermen crowded around.
They cast lots and challenged him.

I was the one who laid them bricks.
I was always the first to deal with it.
I would never have chosen
for our paths to run off course,
So of course I'm not responsible for this.

There has never been a line I've struggled with.
Not once was I dealt a hand that I could not play.
Now there's a hand, that she calls for.
I cannot hold.
So many lines, such an overused phrase I cannot say.
And to think, she'd be willing to bet on me.
And to think, I used to be her right hand man.

When wife awoke, in her humble home and to her right, no lover lie.
While both her boys were tucked away she searched the house for a single trace.
Hardly a note, but it sure did the job a few scattered words,
“Live well, my love”.